


Steal The Secrets Of The Heavens

by OLTRX



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OLTRX/pseuds/OLTRX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FN-2187 would have taken anything Poe Dameron gave him. If Poe Dameron had shouted at him across the cockpit, “I’m not calling you that. How about Fish Nuggets? How about Fluffer Nutter? How about Daisy?” he would have gone by Daisy for the rest of his life.</p>
<p>OR: Finn learns that Poe Dameron is the best man alive, and learns how to love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal The Secrets Of The Heavens

FN-2187 was almost perfect; FN-2187 was a machine. He had been trained and trained, programmed and programmed. At night, he and the other storm-troopers lay perfectly still on their cots, listening to the seductive whispers of First Order propaganda crackling quietly over the loudspeaker. No movement, no sharp breaths, just stillness and sleep. At the firing range, in simulations, during their exercises– he was among the best. He was a honed weapon among cannon-fodder. He had potential; he was the pride of Captain Phasma’s unit. Occasionally, he would do something to earn her praise– the highest privilege. She was almost like a mother to all one hundred of them (back when there were one hundred of them), the only familiar voice that carried through from infancy to adolescence to adulthood.

He only saw her face once.

During a simulation, one kid from their unit tried to make a break for it. He ran and he ran and he ran. FN-2187 had never seen legs move so fast– two blurred into five blurred into one mess of white and black. On his best days, even he couldn’t run that fast. He was fourteen, and that year he was the best in his class.

He could never remember the designation of that boy, as much as he tried. He thinks it was conditioned out of him, but he can’t remember. All he can remember is Phasma, calmly and cooly striding across the marshy green. Phasma, passing the helmet and strips of armor thrown into the mud. Phasma, stunning him (his body, writhing and then tense, covered in mud). She lifted that glorious metal helmet off her head, and she had a lips and a nose and eyes–

Dead eyes.

The metal cracked into the side of that boy’s skull. Once, twice, and then nothing. Bone-rattling thumps from a half mile away, echoing in the total silence.

She put her helmet back on. It was bloody. He wonders if she intended that– a warning. He’s sure she did. He hadn’t understood, when that boy started running, why. How could anyone leave the First Order? There was nothing else. Every time she praised him, every time he aimed well and shot on target, he pictured her dead eyes, following him from underneath that helmet. That glistening, bloody helmet.

It was back to exercises and the firing range after that, back to simulations, back to lying so perfectly still you’d think he’s dead on that creaky old cot, listening to quiet tirades on the glory of dying for the First Order lulling him back to  sleep.

He didn’t sleep.

All he heard was fake, fake, fake, and there was an interminable churning in his stomach that he’d been taught to ignore. Why? Doesn’t that mean something?

And then came Jakku, his first actual mission. His first massive failure. Phasma would be disappointed, if she ever cared.

That was his past though, and this is the truth he lives now:

FN-2187 would have taken anything Poe Dameron gave him. If Poe Dameron had shouted at him across the cockpit,

“I’m not calling you that. How about Fish Nuggets? How about Fluffer Nutter? How about Daisy?” he would have gone by Daisy for the rest of his life.

FN-2187 was faceless and trembling.

Finn had a mouth, a nose, and vibrant, blinking eyes. He was trembling, but he was thrumming, he was a live wire. He was alive.

And that’s the story he would tell Rey over a campfire one day, many years in the future, after a whole lot of bad days and a whole lot of good days. The story of how Poe Dameron gave him the greatest gift he ever got, and then some.

How he came from the sky, golden faced and glistening, and he took him by the hand and he gave him the light.

***

Finn was weak, and then he was brave, and then he was weak again, and then he almost got killed because Kylo Ren decided to go and get obsessed with one of the two (three? four? a growing list) of people who mattered to him. FN-2187 didn’t care about people, or droids, and he certainly didn’t hold a light saber to Kylo Ren, of all people. But he wasn’t FN-2187 anymore, and as he laid back and let the snow cradle him into darkness, he was oh-so-glad to be Finn.

And then he was comatose, and then he woke up, and then he was stuck in a bed for a few weeks until he could walk again.

And then he was–

And then he was standing in Poe Dameron’s room, staring down at his bed, and something small and dark that was chirping, like BB-8 but angrier.

“Hey,” he said quietly. It had very large eyes, and teeth, pointy ones that were probably very sharp. He took a step back, and reached for his blaster. Poe was supposed to be there when he arrived. He had a full duffel of clothing and things (courtesy of the Resistance ) laid out on the floor by his heels, and in all honesty, both of his hands were pretty much filled with food rations he’d rather not drop. He wasn’t prepared to fight anything, but he didn’t want Poe to come back to find he’d let some monster into his bedroom, a possibly deadly monster–

It twitched, and in an instant his hand was on his blaster. Not raised, not even out of the holster, just holding, feeling, ready. The thing has such large eyes, such green eyes.

The door opened automatically behind him, and he was almost calm. His hand twitched.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Poe asked, striding easily past him. He was carrying a bag and his uniform was dirty. “Sorry, I got held up talking to General Organa. We’re getting in some new equipment in half a cycle and–”

Finn didn’t want to interrupt him, he wanted nothing less, but, “Poe. What is that?”

It made the kind of noise BB-8 made when it’s upset, but throatier.

“What’s what?” Poe asked. Finn gestured again, more firmly. He jabbed his finger into the air like he was trying to skewer something.

“That,” Finn said.

Poe raised an eyebrow, and gave a surprised smile, breathtaking. He walked right over, extended his hand, and started doing, well, something.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t realize you were coming home today! Why thank you,” he cooed. It did something, twisted its body, closed its eyes, made a noise like the kind of rattling you never want to hear in your cockpit. Poe turned back to him,  still smiling, and said, “This is Ludo, the best mouser in the whole Resistance .”

Finn blinked once, and watched it (watches Ludo) for a whole five seconds.

“Okay,” Finn said. Poe raised his eyebrow again, and suddenly took Ludo into his arms.

“She’s my cat,” Poe said.

“...Cat?” Finn asked carefully. He felt stupid, like he should know what that is, but obviously if Poe feels safe holding it, it must be nonthreatening. He would’ve never had a reason to know. (They would’ve never felt the need to teach him.)

But instead of laughing, Poe leaned down and grabbed Finn’s bag with one arm and started walking it across the room while Ludo crawled up to sit on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said. “A lot of people don’t know about cats, or at least haven’t met one. They’re not very convenient. You can’t ride them, you can’t train them, you can’t even get them into a ship unless you’ve got some kind of special talent.”

“So why is she here?” Finn asked.

“Well, there’s nothing like a good mouser,” Poe said. He flashed that smile again (did he ever put it away?) and Finn felt like he was being strung up with lights. “Besides, I’ve grown kind of fond of her.”

And then Poe resolutely dropped Finn’s bag on the ground at the foot of his bed, four feet from it’s starting location, and said, “I asked General Organa about your rooming assignment. We’ve lost a lot of troops lately so I thought we’d be able to snag you a bunk. Turns out we’ve got new recruits out the ears. So, not that there’s much choice, but would you like to room with me?”

He tried to picture it– not a creaky old cot, but this bed, that ceiling, those small posters and that gnawed on toothbrush in a cup on the desk. Probably something like silence, like the medic’s space where he was before, or maybe loud and creaky and warm. He didn’t think quickly enough. Something about Poe’s expression changed, something in the eyes, something in the mouth.

“I’ll let you choose which bunk bed you want, top or bottom,” Poe said, as if he needed to convince him.

“Yes,” Finn said. “Yes!”

“Yes?” Poe said.

“Yes,” Finn said.

“Which one?” Poe asked.

“I don’t know, top bunk?” Finn said, but he was smiling, and Poe was smiling, and Ludo was doing that noise again.

Poe reached up behind himself to stroke the fluffy black fur.

“Hush, Ludo, stop your yowling,” he said, but he was still looking at Finn, and he was still smiling, and that was all that mattered.

Poe grabbed the cat, and slowly placed her on the floor. As soon as she made contact, she scampered into the corner, and by nature of the position of the single desk, was able to get onto the top bunk. She settled herself immediately, and took a regal position watching over them.

“Cats are funny,” Finn said. Poe laughed at that.

“Yeah,” he said. “Someone told me that a long time ago, in a beautiful and ancient empire, they used to worship cats.  They thought they were gods, or related to gods, and they built these giant statues of half human, half cat creatures that watched over the city.”

Finn took a moment to revel in that. Ludo yowled again.

“Cats?” he asked incredulously. Poe chuckled, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear. He looked aside.

“Yeah, I know. Gavin’s the one who told me, but we all know he’s full of shit anyway,” he said. After a moment, he  laughed again. How did he have so much joy in him?

“Are the statues still there?” he asked. Poe shrugged.

“Probably consigned to ruins, like so much of Earth,” he said. He turned his head, ever so slightly, and Finn could see a small patch of grease-stain behind his ear. He wondered how it got there.

***

One day, a few weeks after his release from the medic’s, Poe sat him down and asked him how he’d like to be part of the Resistance , officially. Finn was rusty from lack of use. He was jittery, jumpy. There was so much going on at the base, but not a lot for an outsider. The mess hall, full of chattering people. Mechanics building and repairing X-Wings in the baking sun. Finn said yes, and eagerly.

That was how he met Jessika, who introduced him to Gavin, who brought him to the mess hall. He started learning about the mechanics of X-Wings and all types of ships, and started doing busywork for the higher-ups. It was more satisfying than he could’ve ever imagined.

Jessika was wild. She was boisterous and untamed. He’d never met a girl like her before. Even Rey was less unabashedly brash.

Two weeks after they started working together, she taught Finn a new word at the mess.

Poe was usually busy during lunch hours, caught up in meetings, but General Organa was sick and taking a day off to recover, which meant that he was free, gloriously free, for one extra hour in the middle of the day. He was sitting there next to Finn at the table, across from Jessika and Gavin, nibbling at his food and laughing in conversation with the rest of them, but he seemed antsy.

Then, something in the distance caught his eye.

Finn wasn’t really paying attention, but Jessika was. She snickered.

“Go get it,” she said quietly. “We won’t hold it against you.”

He looked at her gratefully and got up.

“Slut,” Jessika whispered fondly to his retreating back. He turned and winked at her, and then he was across the room.

Slut. Finn watched him fold his arms and lean casually against the wall of the mess. Slut. He said something to a new recruit, and she looked pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t seen him there. She was small, though not as short as Jessika. She was slim, and she had reddish-brown hair. He was smiling at her, but it was a smile Finn hadn’t seen on his face before. Slut.

“What does that mean?” Finn asked. Jessika stabbed her spoon into her bowl of mush, and then twirled it around. It was hard to watch, churning and grey. Nobody had ever told her not to play with her food.

“It means he sleeps around a lot,” Jessika said, amused. She would laugh at him, he just knew it, if he asked what that meant too, so he stayed quiet and sat with his arms folded on the table in front of him. “I bet he’d build up quite a reputation if people weren’t in and out of here so fast.”

Tentatively, he asked, “Have you slept with him?”

“Once, and we never talk about it,” she said.

Finn stared down at his own bowl. The substance there was pasty and soft. It could’ve been mold he’d seen in another system. FN-2187 had been given identical food rations every day; cheep, nutritionally enhanced, and totally flavorless.

Now, Finn was learning that taste was not always a good thing.

The new girl walked towards the door, with Poe close behind her, smirking, murmuring something into her ear. She was giggling.

Finn didn’t feel like finishing his food.

Gavin seemed to see the expression on his face, and said, “You’ll get used to it.” Finn wasn’t totally sure wether he was referring to the mush, or the other thing. He didn’t ask. HE wordlessly pushed his bowl across the table, and Gavin accepted it eagerly. He was always hungry.

***

Poe came back to their room hours later than usual that night. It was dark out by the time he stepped in the door, and the walls were illuminated by a single, dim yellow desk lamp. He crept in quietly, on his tip toes, looking over his shoulder in every direction. You wouldn’t think it, but Poe Dameron was a terrible sneak.

Finn was still awake, of course. He’d been sitting cross-legged on the top bunk doing paperwork for the General on a tablet until Ludo hopped up and dumped herself in his lap. She sprawled out on her back, paws up in the air and blue eyes staring blankly at him. He precociously cradled her head. He was going to move her so he could get back to work, but then she started rumbling again. She was so soft, and friendly.

That was where he was when Poe walked in. He dropped his bag on the floor, and strode over to the closet. He started to take off his jacket, quietly and efficiently, taking no notice of the man on the bed.

“You’re back later than usual,” Finn said. Poe startled slightly, and whipped around to look at him.

“You’re still awake?” he asked. “I thought for sure you’d be asleep by now.”

“I was doing paperwork for General Organa,” he said, gesturing to the recently disregarded tablet on the bed next to him.

“I see that someone had other plans for you,” Poe said with a grim. He walked easily up to the side of the bunk, and strung his arm through the bars to rub at Ludo’s neck with a single knuckle. “Hello, sweet thing. How are you? Sorry, I don’t have any treats for you today. I didn’t think you’d be back to visit us so soon.”

Ludo yowled at him, perhaps in disappointment, and burrowed her head into the folds of Finn’s shirt. Poe stepped back.

“It looks like she’s found a new favorite,” Poe said, though not remorsefully. “I can’t say I disagree with her choice.”

He strode back over to the closet, and Finn waited until his back was turned to ask, “What does ‘sleeping around’ mean?”

Poe jumped. He turned back to Finn with wide eyes. “I, uh. Well. Do you mind if I ask who you heard that from?”

“Jessika,” Finn said, and Poe mumbled something to himself. “Why, is it bad?”

“No, not at all,” Poe said. “It just means having sex with a lot of different people.”

Finn looked down at his hands. They were nestled comfortable in the soft black fur. He tried not to blush. Poe had been twitch, and almost (almost) awkward, which meant he didn’t like talking about this, or it wasn’t discussed in polite company. But he was the only one Finn could trust to not laugh at him.

“Sex?”

Poe stared at him, and then coughed uncomfortably.

“Yeah, you know, sex,” he said. “Making love. Fucking.”

Finn didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Damn it, he could feel himself starting to blush. Poe was  staring at him incredulously.

“You... don’t know?” he asked.

“I assume it’s information not useful to a Stormtrooper,” Finn said. Poe inhaled deeply.

“Right,” he said. “Oh man.”

“Are you not allowed to tell me?” Finn asked, and Poe looked back up at him, surprised. “Should I ask someone else? General Organa?”

“No, no, I can tell you,” Poe said. He walked over slowly, and leaned against the bed’s latter. Even in a state of mild distress, he looked cool–sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned at the top. His eyebrows were pinched for a moment, and then he smoothed them. “It’s not really a big deal. It’s just when people touch each other, you know... here.”

He waved a hand somewhat ambiguously over his crotch.

“Why?” Finn asked.

“Because it feels good.”

The cat was rumbling, and Finn was confused.

“If it’s a good thing, why are you having such a hard time talking about it?”

Poe exhaled.

“I don’t usually,” he said. “I’ve never had to explain what sex is to someone before.”

“I think you’re doing alright at it,” Finn said. “Thank you for not laughing at me.”

Poe looked almost scandalized.

“I would never,” he said. Finn smiled. A moment passed. “Sex is just a very personal experience for a lot of people, which means it’s not very polite to talk about it in many circumstances. A lot of people choose to have sex only with people they’re in romantic relationships with. Some people choose to do it with people they don’t know very well, and some people choose not to do it at all. The important things to remember are not to do it in front of other people unless they ask you, and that the person you’re having sex with absolutely must want you to touch them, in that spot, at that moment.”

Poe looked like he wanted the conversation to be over. Finn wanted to ask about the girl– did that mean they’d had sex, just then? Maybe no more than half an hour ago? He didn’t. Instead, he said, “Jess said you had sex with her.”

Poe walked back over to the closet.

“Yes, many, many years ago, and we don’t talk about it.”

***

Later, after they were both in bed, Finn thought about Poe, doing that to him. Poe, up on the top bunk with him, reaching his hand past the waistband of his sleeping uniform. Poe, touching him just like he’d touch himself. He imagined Poe kissing him, and he knew that boyfriends and girlfriends did that, but he didn’t know what it felt like. It was a nice idea, though, and he spilled over his own fist, thinking of the shape of Poe’s body.

***

It was a cold day when Poe hopped up onto the desk and said, “So I guess you’ve never gotten drunk before, huh?”

There were dark circles under his eyes and a thin cut running the length of his cheekbone.

The best pilot in the Resistance was not impervious to loss.

All the way up at his perch, Finn could read the giant writing on the side of the bottle in his hand. “That’s from outside our system.” Poe smiled, but it was dull.

“I know,” he said. “It’s imported. The good stuff.”

Finn climbed down wordlessly, and pulled out the desk chair. Poe whipped two cups out of his mysterious bag and poured. The liquid was fizzy and luminescent purple, like nothing he’d ever seen before. When he drank it, it was bitter  and burned his throat. He started coughing, and Poe chuckled.

“Yeah, it can be a little much. It’s probably not the best choice for a first timer, but it’s great if you wanna get hammered fast,” he said. When he held his own cup to his lips, it looked like he was drinking the galaxy. With his head thrown back like that, he was stunning– hair just a little bit messy, stubble sprouting across his jawline. Finn watched  his adams apple bob and felt the strange urge to lick it.

He shifted uncomfortably.

In moments, Poe smacked the glass back down against the table, empty. He waited half a minute before starting to refill it.

“You know, my mother died in a crash,” he said. A quiet moment passed. “She spend her life fighting the good fight, for the good guys. So did my dad. After that, I went to live on a ship with some people they knew. That was alright. No shortage of things to do, always a lot of people. And it was safe. Well, as safe as a bunch of fool-hardy revolutionaries hurdling through hyperspace in a tin can could be for an eight year old.”

He was rubbing little circles into his own thigh with his thumb, and staring off into the distance.

“Anyway, I decided to start fighting for myself when I was sixteen, after one of our pilots was killed on a supply run. He and I were pretty close; he taught me everything I know.” His head thudded back against the wall. “I’ve never questioned my decision. I love fighting, and I’m glad for the privilege to fight for the Resistance. But there are bad days.” He took a swig. “Really bad days.”

Finn watched him drink. He thought that Poe was the best person he’d ever met, maybe even the best man alive. He felt sloppy inside; loose.

“I’m glad I left,” Finn said. “I’m glad I met you.”

Poe smiled softly.

He wanted to lean in. He wanted to put his hands on Poe’s neck, his jaw, his shoulders. He wanted to press his mouth to Poe’s. He wanted.

***

Poe didn’t drain the bottle that night, but he drank enough that he couldn’t walk straight, and fell into bed. Finn was woozy too, but not so much that it was a hinderance.

Poe lay his large palm across the sliver of exposed bedsheets next to him.

“Will you come sleep with me?” he asked. The face he was making– gently pleading, in a pouty way– was almost cute, if

Finn could even think that about a grown man. “No funny business, I promise.”

“Well, if you promise,” Finn said with a chuckle.

He flopped straight down, slamming into Poe’s upper body– Poe, who, on impact, let out a pained groan that quickly transformed into quick bursts of laughter. And then Finn started laughing too, and what would you know, there the two of them are, idiots lying in a heap clutching at their sides.

Eventually, breathless, Finn rolled off of him to lay on his side on the bed. Poe pressed his front against Finn’s back, and as he fell asleep, wrapped his arms around him.

It was the first time anyone held Finn like that.

***

Finn was lying under an X-Wing while Jessika yelled parts names at him when Poe decided to stop by. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and with his hair all mussed up he was rakishly handsome.

“How’s he doing?”

“Well, he’s still learning,” Jessika said, and conceded, “He’ll get there eventually.”

“Good! Glad to hear it,” Poe said. He patted her shoulder. “I hope she’s not being too mean to you.”

“Nah, I’m alright,” Finn said. He was smiling. It was stupid, but he was smiling.

“Alright, just let me know,” he said. He stood there for another moment, staring down at the gravel and dust by Finn’s head. “Well, I should get back. The General’s waiting for me. See you back at the bunk?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. As if he had anywhere else to be.

He watched his retreating back until he felt a grease rag smack him in the face.

“Hey, lover-boy, focus,” Jessika said.

“What?” Finn asked, pulling the rag away from his face. He could feel himself starting to blush. Jessika rolled her eyes.

“Don’t pretend. I have eyes, you know, and you’re not exactly subtle,” she said. “So, have you fucked him yet?”

There was no hope for him. His face was burning, and he wanted to bury himself in the grease rag and never come out.

“Poe has been kind to me,” he said. “I don’t want to misread his intentions.”

“Oh my god,” Jessika said with an exasperated sigh. “He’s totally into you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now, and me the socket wrench. No, the socket wrench. The socket wrench.”

***

Finn was pacing nervously when Poe got back to the room. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what Jessika had said– that Finn would want to, and with him. He had tried to pet the cat to calm his nerves, but even she wasn’t taking any of his shit and escaped through the slight opening in the door. So he was alone, and he was overthinking something that

Jessika said, and he could feel the thrumming, the aliveness, but it was an almost queasy kind of aliveness– combined with something good he didn’t have a name for.

He stopped when Poe walked in the door. He must have looked as bewildered as he felt, because Poe immediately dropped his bag and walked right up to him, laying a concerned hand on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Are you okay? You look like you just found out a wookie slept with your mother.”

“What? How do you know who my mother is?” Finn asked.

“I don’t, it’s just a saying,” Poe said. Finn stared at the ground.

He didn’t know what to say.

He leaned forwards, and pressed his mouth against Poe’s. His lips were cracked, one corner was a little bit split, and they felt okay. He didn’t really understand the appeal. He could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest, but not in the good way.

Then, Poe stiffened and pulled back.

Finn did something wrong. He failed. But Poe’s hands were on his arms, just above his elbows, and he wasn’t letting go.

“Finn,” he said softly. “Hey, Finn.”

Finn looked him in the eye. Poe wasn’t angry. That was good, at least.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything,” Poe said. “Just because of my feelings... I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, for my sake. Okay?”

“Your feelings?” Finn asked. Poe’s eyes widened. He looked a little bit surprised.

“Yeah? Just because I have feelings for you, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me.” Poe said. Finn just stared at him blankly, until Poe’s cheeks became red and he turned away. “Jeez. Oh man.”

Finn held him gently at the chin, and tilted his head back up. Poe’s eyes were on him. Something between caution and anticipation. Finn moved slowly, and pressed another totally chaste kiss square on Poe’s mouth.

This time, Poe responded. He brought his hand up to wrap around Finn’s head, his shoulders. He parted his lips and oh– that was why so many people kissed. He dropped his hands to Poe’s hips and pressed forwards, trying to mimic his movements. Mouth open, tongues brushing against each other, teeth skirting against the lips.

Poe started to push forward, and forward, until the back of Finn’s legs hit the bottom bunk and they both toppled onto the mattress.

Poe was lying totally on top of him, hands at Finn’s shoulders. He kept kissing him and kissing him, pushing deeper, stroking along his jawline while Finn carded his hands through Poe’s hair. His body was flooded with warmth, something was building in him that he’d only had a taste of before.

Poe’s fingers caught on his shirt collar.

“Do you want this right now?” he asked. A moment of silence. “You can say no.”

“Yes,” Finn said. He frantically pulled at his shirt. “Yes, I want this.”

With fumbling hands, he helped Poe get the Resistance uniform vest off, and then the orange jacket. He didn’t see Poe in the grey undershirt a lot, so that alone was an arousing sight, but then Poe was beautifully, gloriously shirtless.

He wondered briefly if any of those strange Earth gods could match Poe in beauty; he thought not. His skin was a gentle shade of tan, covered in tiny cuts and scars. He was lean and muscular.

Finn leaned up and impulsively kissed his neck. Poe made a satisfied sighing noise. He did it again, harder, and Poe ground his hips down into Finn’s and oh– that felt good.

He liked touching Poe. He liked putting his hands on his sides, feeling his ribs, feeling his stubble and the dense muscle of his back and shoulders. He liked how warm his skin was. He liked how warm Poe made him feel.

And then Poe was leaning forwards, pushing him down to the bed, gently kissing down his chest. He laved his tongue over Finn’s nipple, and he jolted. He didn’t know he could feel like that. He was sure he was already hard and leaking in his pants.

Poe danced his fingers along the waistband. “You don’t have to say yes.”

“Yes,” Finn said with a smile. “I want it.”

“Okay,” Poe said. He rolled off of Finn for a moment, and then Finn was naked.

He’d been naked before in the presence of other people; in the showers, mostly. This was different. This was Poe, and Poe was looking at him in the most fond way anyone had ever looked at him, and Finn was beyond aroused.

Poe started to crawl back and scoot down his body. He didn’t understand. He leaned forwards and made a frustrated whining noise– he wanted Poe to keep kissing him. Poe chuckled, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Then, he bent down.

He wrapped his mouth around the head of Finn’s cock and started to move. It was warm and so slick. Finn felt like he was flying apart at the hinges. Looking at Poe– hunched over, cheeks hollowed, bobbing up and down– was the most erotic experience of his life.

He gasped. He couldn’t breath, in the best possible way.

“Oh my god,” he said, head lolling back. He could hardly keep his eyes open. His fingers were twitching against the mattress. “I never knew.”

Poe looked up at him, and then with no warning he was shooting down his throat.

He pulled away slowly, with Finn catching his breath on the bed, and leaned up to kiss him again with a smirk. He kissed him on the cheek, and the forehead, until Finn grabbed him by the back of the head and dragged him back down to his mouth.

He put his hand on Poe’s hip.

“Can I?” he asked. Poe flushed.

“Yeah,” he said. He pulled his pants down. Instantly, his cock sprung up, leaving a wet mark across his abs. Finn leaned down to lick it off, and Poe groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”  
Finn wrapped one hand around him and started slowly. He’d never touched anyone other than himself, but by the way

Poe was panting he thought he must be doing fine.

“Faster,” Poe said, and Finn complied. He was gripping Finn’s shoulders tightly, looking down at Finn’s hand moving on him. He let his head drop to Finn’s shoulder. “Oh god, I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”

Breathlessly, he came onto their bare abdomens.

After a few moments passed, he started laughing. Then, so did Finn. He thought of before. He wrapped his hand around Poe’s, and before he could stop himself he was drifting off to sleep, curled around his naked body while Poe stroked his short hair. 

When he woke up, they were both still there, and he smiled. 

***

That was how Finn learned to love Poe Dameron, on a tiny Resistance base under the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics of "Butterfly Nets" by Bishop Allen:  
> "Armed with this small butterfly net / I will face the world alone / And never be lonely / Up and up you go / For to steal the secrets of the heavens / Will you share them with me / My bright and brilliant spy?"


End file.
